


Please, like me

by Anna_Charmie



Series: The Charmie Decameron [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Attempted sexual assault (chapter 3), Bullying, Eating Disorders, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Charmie/pseuds/Anna_Charmie
Summary: Armie is an overweight 18 years old student, shy, kind, struggling to find his place in the world. Timmy is a ballet dancer with no friends and an absolute lack of self-esteem. Destiny will bring them together.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: The Charmie Decameron [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010889
Comments: 39
Kudos: 82





	1. Four PM

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you for your kind comments to my previous nonsense! I'm happy if I made you forget about the crazy stuff going on in the world right now, even if only for a few minutes. So, second story of the Charmie Decameron: this supposed to be a different one (it will come next), but today at work I started to think about something and it made sense, so... there we are! A lot of fluff and L O V E as always (especially in the last chapter eheheh).

Chapter one: four pm

_New York, 1980_

Armie looks at himself in the mirror. _Monster,_ he thinks, _nobody will ever love you._

Every time he enters a room, he makes a show of himself, even when he tries his best to remain unseen: but it's a little complicated for a giant of two meters and almost one hundred kilograms to stay in the shadow anywhere. But he still keeps trying, tough.

In the semi-darkness of his own room, curtains closed, he takes off his shirt in front of the mirror and stares at his chest, his belly, soft and round like a donut. He grabs at the flesh on his sides and make it bounce; he laughs, then frowns. _Who would ever love something like this?,_ his brain suggests, cruelly. _Who would ever desire to touch this?_

Armie stares at his face, his chubby cheeks, his slightly double chin. His large, strong shoulders, his arms, his thick tights. For a big boy like him, even finding clothes is an issue. Sometimes he has to wear tailored trousers and shirts, but his family is quite rich so it's not a problem.

He is going to graduate in a few weeks, finally the nightmare of the high school will be over and he will be a college freshman: a new life, a new attitude, a new himself. He looks forward to the moment when he will step on the bus for Boston, find his student apartment, meet his roommate, start classes at Harvard and never look back to the past eighteen years.

The staring, the bullying, the people looking at him in the aisles and giggling, thinking “Oh let's see if the giant will do something awkward, like tripping or crashing on someone else!”. Armie has learned to ignore them, to pretend he doesn't see, he doesn't hear the voices, but inside it hurts. Inside, it's been killing him, slowly and painfully, every single day.

In the last few months, tough, Armie's favorite part of the day is four pm. At four pm, every day, he leaves school, takes his bike, goes to the main entrance of the Julliard Academy, and waits. He waits patiently, hidden away, for the students to come out of the school and disperse like marbles along the footpath. He waits until he sees _him,_ the mysterious boy who seems to live in a parallel world: always alone, head down, walkman and ear phones, a beanie to hide his long dark curls. He never says bye to anyone; never stops on the stairs to talk to the other students of the Academy. _Why?,_ Armie wonders, why is he always alone, always silent? And yet he looks exactly like the kind of boy who supposes to have a thousand friends, people worshipping him, and all the girls around him, waiting to be noticed. Armie is confused, and his heart beats fast every time he sees the boy.

His name should be Tim, but Armie isn't sure. He caught the name because one time, a few weeks earlier, he doesn't know how exactly, he got spotted waiting behind a tree, staring at the door, by one of the other students, a tall boy with a smart face and a witty attitude, who suddenly had shouted in front of the whole school: “Ehi, Tim, look, it's your suitor!!” and pointed straight towards Armie. The bunch of people around the tall boy had laughed, but this wasn't the worst thing; Tim had looked in the direction of Armie, but this wasn't the worst, either; the worst thing was that Armie had panicked and had jumped immediately on his bike, running away in shame. _Idiot,_ he shouldn't have run away, he should have... he should have... what? Be brave and take a chance to talk to Tim? Yeah, sure, and then? Ask him for a date? Oh yeah, sure, and maybe Tim would have said _Yes_ and they would have fallen in love and live happily for ever. Yeah, SURE. Maybe in another life. Maybe in another universe, one in which Armie was thin and self-confident and charming and brave. One in which he simply was _someone else._

Armie stares at the image of himself in the mirror, a solitary tear rolling down his cheek. _Monster,_ he thinks. _Maybe a donut will make me feel better._

_\---_

It's a particularly slow day at the Julliard. Timmy doesn't know how, but the days have started feel longer and longer (and insufferable and constricting and suffocating) lately. Especially in the last few weeks. Especially since he saw that blonde, _huge,_ absurdly attractive boy, hidden behind one of the trees on the footpath in front of the school entrance. Tim would have gladly gone and introduce himself to the boy, if that fucking idiot of Clarence didn't scare him and make him run away. Why is he such an asshole?

Since that day, apparently, time seems to have dilated, especially the last hour of class. It's like four pm never comes. Since that day, Tim have never seen the boy again, but he is sure that he will see him again eventually. He has to, because how can he go and introduce himself and ask him for a date if he never sees him again? He doesn't even know his name, or where he lives, or which school he attends, or he would have stalk him a little, but New York is immense and trying to find someone with any clue is like looking for a needle in a haystack, and a huge one.

\---

Armie goes to a therapist. Yes, he is not proud of it, but his mother has insisted: after his parents divorce, moving out of California to the opposite side of the Country, a new school, the struggles of fit in with this new life, the difficulty in finding friends and the progressive weight gain, she thought that maybe it could have been good for Armie to talk to someone out of the circle of the family, someone who could see things from a better perspective and help him take his life back on track again.

Of course, it's not working. Not because of the therapist, of course: Doctor Helen Barrow is one of the most famous therapists of the city, regarding the treatment of very young patients. It's not working because Armie is keeping skimming the surface, telling the doctor what he is supposed to say, what he thinks she wants to hear from him.

_I'm fine_

_It's just a bad moment_

_School is fine_

_I have friends_

_I'm not binge eating anymore, I promise_

And a lot of tons of other bullshit like that. He knows he is cheating, that it isn't very smart to lie to your (very expensive) therapist, but still. There has been something good in that, tough: doctor Barrow's office is very close to the Julliard, and that's how Armie has seen Tim for the first time. He was leaving one of his early session, about four pm, and had stopped to look at a billboard just in front of the main entrance of the Academy. Looking up, he had seen the skinny shape and the mop of dark hair bouncing on the footpath and quickly disperse himself in the crowd of people going back and forth, and disappear. Armie's heart had skipped more than a beat, and he had felt the irresistible need to see him again. And that's how he had started going there every day at four pm, hiding wherever he found a safe spot.

\---

The door of Miss Thornton, the Academy counsellor, is always open. She has sent someone to look for Timmy because she needs to talk to him. She is worried about him, not only about his school issues, but in general.

“I'm fine” Tim mumbles, eyes down, visibly annoyed.

“Please, Timothee, talk to me” the lady asks, kindly and patiently. He shrugs. She keeps talking: “You look stressed. You barely talk to the other students. You're still smoking, despite we asked you to quit, for your own health and safety. And you're losing weight...”

“I'm a ballet dancer, I'm supposed to be as thin as possible” he cuts her off.

“You suppose to have muscles, Tim. Do you know what I see when I look at you? Layers and layers of huge clothes hiding skin and bones, and nothing else.” she has a worried, warm look on her face, “We are concerned about your health, hun. Please, let us help you”

Tim shrugs again, eyes still on the desk, never making eye-contact with the counsellor.

She sighs heavily. “Listen, what do you think about talking to someone else? Someone outside the school, someone who doesn't know you, who doesn't judge you? Mh?” she tries to catch his gaze, hopeful. He looks up for the first time, but his face doesn't show any emotion.

“Are you sending me out to a shrink?” Tim asks, almost shocked by the simple idea of.

“No! No, hun, she is not... she is a doctor, she listens to people and give them advices, but it's up to you to take those advices or not. Please, try to go for once, see if you feel comfortable, and then, if you like it, you can go every week or every fortnight or whenever you want” she talks to him like she would with a seven year old child.

He rolls his eyes. “Fine” he says, surrendering.

Miss Thornton opens a drawer and searches for a little card, which she passes to Timmy.

“There we are, here you will find the doctor's name and address. Her office is quite close to us, actually. Her name is... Helen Barrow”.

_To be continued..._


	2. I see myself in you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet each other.

Chapter two: I see myself in you

Timmy looks at himself in the mirror. _Pathetic,_ he thinks, _nobody will ever love you._

The ballet class is starting in a few minutes, just the time to warm up muscles and make some chat. Well, not him: he doesn't speak with others, doesn't even know most of their names. It's not like he thinks he is too good to honor them with his friendship; he just _doesn't like people_. Because people make questions, and he really doesn't care to answer. He isn't really fond of ballet, either, but his parents were so excited when he said he wanted to try the audition to the Julliard, and after, when he got into the Academy, they were so over the Moon, saying how much they were proud of him, how much they loved him and how this was making them happy... he couldn't let them down. So here he was, facing day after day: wake up, classes, practice, dress rehearsals, shows, exams, faking happiness, dragging his life on auto-pilot, feeling nothing.

He looks at himself in the mirror of the dance room, his large sweater, his grey pants, his black shoes. Behind him (he can see them, hear the voices) Clarence and his little court of followers and friends are, as always, making fun of him, of his clothes, of his hair, of the fact that he is the smallest of the male dancers and it's basically impossible for him to uplift any of the girls in a _pas-de-deux._ Clarence stares at him, and there is something in his eyes that somehow scares Timmy to the core. He wants to run away, wants to hide himself, lie under the blankets in his bed and never come back to the surface.

After the class, Timmy has his first meeting with Doctor Barrow: he promised Miss Thornton he would have given therapy a chance, just one, just to see how it goes. He wears his coat and starts walking towards the office; his appointment is at three thirty pm, he is slightly early so he lights a cigarette and waits outside, leaning on the wall in the corner of the building. He inhales the nicotine and then slowly releases the smoke, it helps him relax a little. He isn't sure what the doctor is going to ask him, or if he will be able to answer honestly. Timmy is lost in his thoughts when he barely notice a massive figure coming out of the main door of the building, walking downstairs and turning the opposite corner of the building, head down, hands into the pockets.

“No fucking way!” he says, as he starts following the boy. Tim follows the blonde giant for a while, being careful not to be seen, because he knows that the moment he gets spotted, the boy will run away again and he will miss another chance to talk to him. The boy enters a grocery shop and comes out a few minutes later, a bag in his hands. He looks around, as if scared of someone following him (if he only knew that Timmy is actually following him!) and then keeps walking for a few minutes, until he reaches a little park, almost empty except for some kids on bikes, and sits on a bench. Tim carefully stays behind a tree, and the clear irony of the situation makes him chuckle: apparently they are both so useless that secretly staring at each other from afar is the only way they know.

The blonde giant waits until the few kids are gone, then opens the bag from the grocery shop, looks around him to make sure nobody is watching him, and starts eating, voraciously, like that one is the only way to shut up his brain and just _exist_ , like that's the only way to make life bearable again. Timmy feels like he is spying a private moment, like he shouldn't keep watching, so he turns around and leans against the tree, feeling so sad for the poor guy, but also understanding him, in some way. _He is like me,_ Timmy thinks, _he hides from the world, from the people, because he knows they will judge him, they will try to fix him, make him feel like he is wrong._ Tim's heart is racing in his chest, he would like to run towards the boy, hug him, tell him that they are the same, that they are not broken, that they will be fine. He turns around and sees that the boy is leaving the bench and starting walking back towards the street, and he is in a hurry, apparently.

Timmy follows the blonde boy for a while, always carefully keeping some distance, until he stops in front of the Julliard and waits. Tim smiles and looks at his watch: it's four pm. He is waiting for _him,_ like he does every day. _Why did you never come and talk to me, dummy?_ He wants to ask the boy. He feels his heart beating like a crazy drum in his chest, and knows that this is it, this is the chance: it's now or never. He takes a deep breath, gathers all his courage and takes a few steps ahead, stopping right behind the huge figure. He taps his arm and waits...

\---

Armie feels something touching his arm and turns around, and his heart literally stops when he realizes who is behind him. At first none of them moves or speaks, both just staring at each other, eyes wide, breathing fast, not a muscle moving. Armie wants to run away, but his legs are totally frozen, his brain is paralyzed, his mouth is dry and he feels like he could have a stroke any minute now. _God, he is even more beautiful so close,_ he thinks with the last of his neurons still functioning; he sees that the boy's eyes are a wonderful hazel green, his lips are full and red and his cheekbones are incredibly sharp. He really doesn't know what to do, or say, or even his own name right now. Talking is literally not an option.

Timmy finally breaks the silence:

“Were you waiting for me?” he asks, pretending to be cool and relaxed and absolutely not internally freaking out. Armie opens his mouth, but no sounds escapes. He just nods, trying not to look like a total idiot.

Tim smiles, and his face somehow becomes even more attractive: “Well, I'm here, then” he says, and then he offers Armie his hand to shake “I'm Timmy, but you probably already know it. It'd be fair if I knew your name, too, don't you think?”

Armie looks at Timmy's hand, then his face, then his hand again, but he can't persuade his arm to move and shake the other boy's hand. He just nods, mentally slapping himself to wake up from this numbness. He gathers some strenght and speaks, at last.

“I'm Armand, but they call me Armie” he said and immediately feels stupid.

Timmy's smile widens “Yeah, this name suits you” he beams and then takes the boy's hand and starts walking both away when he sees that the other students of the Academy are starting coming out of the building. He really wants to avoid that asshole of Clarence saying something rude to Armie. He wants to protect him, because even if Armie is huge and strong and intimidating, Timmy knows that inside he is the softest creature he has ever met.

The boys walk through Central Park, talking about everything and nothing, getting to know each other; most of the time, it's Timmy talking and laughing and making terrible jokes. Armie just nods and laughs in return, staring at his new friend like he was the most precious angel of the Paradise. He feels somehow lightheaded, free, his chest light and his brain quite, and he feels strong, like nothing could touch him anymore. He feels... happy? Is this the so-called _happiness_ he heard about, but never experienced before? Could it be? Armie smiles, even if he missed the last thing Timmy said.

\---

Every time Armie smiles, Timmy's heart skips a couple of beats. _He is so pure,_ he says to himself, _how is it possible that someone like him wants to talk to someone like me?_ Tim wonders, but can't find an answer. He keeps talking and talking, but inside, he is burning with the desire to touch Armie; to hug him and being hugged by those strong arms, being held tight by them; being surrounded by Armie's huge, warm body; to feel his smooth skin against his own; to lie down on Armie's chest and feel his soft hairs on his own cheek; listen to his heart beating and knowing that, somehow, he himself is the reason for that beating. Timmy can feel how secure and protected he could feel in Armie's embrace, like he never felt before. _Finally._

_Please, kiss me._

_Please, like me._

\---

When they come to Timmy's house, it's late evening, but it's like time has flown away in minutes. Armie has open himself a little, starting to talk to Timmy about his parents' divorce, his mother sending him to the therapist, his struggling with making friends. Timmy doesn't mention the fact that he has seen Armie eating on the bench, because the last thing he wants is making him feel humiliated. They stand on the door, looking at each other, waiting for something to happen. Waiting... waiting...

“Do you think we should kiss?” Timmy rambles eventually, almost breathless.

Armie looks confused. “I don't know” he says “I mean, if you want”

Tim is about to scream _Of course I want, you freaking dummy!!_ but stays silent, takes a step ahead and rises on his tippy toes, closing his eyes and pouting his lips slightly. Armie could swear this is the cutest thing he has ever seen: he tries not to freak out, takes Tim's face in his hands and slowly put their lips close, and then together, and it's like suddenly everything makes sense at once.

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, apparently I need an extra chapter here!!


	3. Nothing can touch us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First date. Meeting parents. Timmy facing unrequested attentions. More fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you all for reading, kudoing (?? is it even an actual word?) and leaving lovely comments!!  
> TRIGGER WARNING! The end of this chapter contains an attempted sexual assault (I added also a tag), it doesn't succeed, luckily, but remember: consent is essential! You have the right to say no and not wanting to be touched, in any possible way. And also I want to say to everyone who was bullied or is facing bullying right now:  
> YOU ARE LOVED  
> YOU ARE AMAZING  
> YOU ARE IMPORTANT

Chapter three: nothing can touch us

“Happy first week-versary!!” Timmy chirps while literally flying into Armie's embrace. It's four pm and the boy is waiting for him in front of the Academy's entrance, as always. This is not changed, even now that they're dating. This will never change.

Armie gives Timmy a quizzical look. Tim rolls his eyes:

“Today is exactly one week since we first kissed!” he announces, as if Armie has forgotten a national holiday. The blonde giant smiles.

“Oooh... so you are one of _those_ people, uh?” he says. Timmy blinks:

“What people?”

“You know” Armie answers, smile never fading “one of those people who actually remember every single date and what happened and where and who said what”

Timmy winces “I am, indeed. It's silly, isn't it?”

Armie links the tips of their noses together:

“It's not silly, it's adorable. _You_ are adorable”

They stay like this for a few seconds, then Timmy mewls:

“I need you to cuddle me!”

“I need to study” Armie sighs, but he is quite aware that he's going to do whatever Timmy asks him to do. Anything. He has no willpower anymore. And he's never been happier.

“Cuddles first, then study” the smaller boy asserts, and the two of them start walking, holding hands, towards Armie's house; his mother works all day long, so they have the house all for themselves most of the time.

In the last week since their first kiss, the boys have been kissing in Armie's room. It was the first kiss for both of them, and they talked about not being ready to go _all in,_ so they established a few simple rules: lights can go off, but clothes stay on; hands over the belt, and mouths not further than the shoulders. So far, so good.

They are lying on the bed, Timmy's cheek on Armie's chest, the latter holding a book and reading silently. Suddenly, Tim raises his head and suggests:

“We should celebrate our week-versary! I want to bring you in a fancy place and buy you dinner” his wide, joyful smile lightening the room. Armie feels the panic raise, and his lungs stop working. He feels his cheeks heat up.

“I'm sorry, Timmy, I... I can't” he rumbles “I just... can't”

Tim's beautiful smile falls down. _He doesn't want to be seen with me,_ he realizes, painfully, _he is ashamed of me, I embarrass him._ He makes an effort to keep tears at bay, and leaves the bed, ready to go. Armie stops him, holding his shoulders.

“Ehi, wait, Tim, it's not... it's not that I don't _want_ to. It's just...” he inhales a deep breath, and goes for full disclosure “I can't eat in front of other people. I just _can't._ I'm so sorry” he confesses, and somehow feels lighter, like he took off a huge stone from his chest.

Timmy blinks, confused:

“What do you mean, you can't? Why?”

Armie sighs. “I can't because I'm too ashamed of what people will think when they see me eating. If I eat too much, they will think: well, of course he is so fat, look at all the food he can swallow! And if I order a salad, they will think: how can he eat so little and still be so huge? Is he ill or something?” he explains, feeling the ridiculousness of it all, but not being able to help himself. “I don't want their pity, or their disgusted glances”

Timmy is overwhelmed by tenderness, but has no idea what to say or do to make Armie feel better. He cups his chubby, round cheeks with his hands and kisses his nose, his chin and then his lips.

“Maybe we can take a booth in a corner, have some privacy” he tries to make up Armie's mind, looking up at him with puppy eyes, knowing perfectly how Armie will be unable to resist him.

Armie rolls his eyes, tilts his head on the side. “Ok! Fine” he says eventually, faking exasperation, utterly smitten.

\---

Armie was sure when Timmy said _fancy place_ he meant Burger King. They take a booth in the less crowded corner of the room and order basically everything is in the menu.

“We will share, so nobody will know who ate what” says Timmy, smiling and holding Armie's hand on the table, not caring about what people will think about them. Armie is learning to not panic when Timmy holds his hand or kiss his cheek in public (and he does it a lot, expressing affection in front of other people). He looks at the boy sit in front of him, his hazel eyes, his sweet smile, and still can't believe how lucky he was.

 _I love you_ , Armie thinks it so intensely that for a second he panics because he's sure he said it out loud, but then Timmy bites his burger and starts talking about how his father promised him to buy him a second hand car next year, and he immediately relaxes.

When they leave the restaurant, it's still early night so they decide to go for a walk in Central Park. They walk and talk and make plan for the weekend, when suddenly Timmy spots Clarence and his group of dumbass friends next to a hot-dogs stall. Unfortunately, they see him too: they start laughing, calling them names, making fun of their size difference. Tim squeezes Armie's hand, trying to calm him down, feeling him getting stiff and nervous every second more, his face red with rage.

“Please, please ignore them” he begs his boyfriend “It's just some stupid joke. They can't touch us. Please, Armie” he looks in his eyes, and his smile has a soothing effect on the big boy. They keep walking until the voices fade in the night.

\---

They are cuddled in Armie's bed, watching old episodes of _Starsky and Hutch_ , when Timmy clears his throat and says, suddenly insecure:  
“Uhm... I need to tell you something, but please, don't freak out”. He puts his hands on Armie's chest.

 _Shit,_ Armie thinks, his brain going blank, his stomach shrinking painfully, _there we are, this is it: he is dumping me._ Well, he knew it would have happened eventually: why would someone like Timmy, someone so amazing and sweet and perfect, want to be with a sad scrap like Armie? He knew this was coming, he just didn't see it coming so early. He mentally braces himself, his chest tight, ready to face the impact.

Timmy blushes: “My parents have noticed me being happier lately, and you know, I can't hide anything from them, so... I told them about you, about _us,_ and apparently they want to meet you!” he says, his hands trembling slightly “You are invited to dinner on Saturday night. I mean, if you want, of course”

Armie stills, then breathes (he haven't even realized he was holding his breath) and smiles.

“Yeah, sure” he replies, earning a kiss from an euphoric Timmy.

\---

Apparently, Timmy's parents were Armie's fans even before meeting him.

“So you are the reason of this sudden change in my son” Tim's father says, enthusiastic, patting Armie's shoulder. “He smiles now, and says nice things like _good morning_ and _thank you_!”

Timmy rolls his eyes, dragging Armie towards the living room. His mother beams when Armie praises her cooking skills.

“Oh, you're so nice. Finally someone that appreciate my efforts!” she glances at both the men of her family, and they all laugh.

After dinner, the two boys spend time in Timmy's room, and Armie is amazed by the fact that they can lay in bed together and don't even need to lock the door.

“They won't sneak into the room to catch us doing sinful things” Timmy jokes, and Armie relaxes: he is stretched out on his back, with Timmy literally spread all over him like a cute octopus on a rock. They are fully clothed and laying over the blankets, Timmy lightly scratching Armie's chest through his t-shirt, both breathing slowly, not longing for anything more. Armie is soft, warm and nicely scented; Timmy feels more like a big lizard, all cold skin and slender limbs.

“Armie” he whispers “I think I'm in love with you”

The big boy stiffs for a second, then squeezes his boyfriend so tight he thinks he could have broken some ribs. Armie feels like he wants to climb on the highest building of the city and scream his lungs out; or maybe he should go downstairs, hug Timmy's parents and say _Thank you, thank you for putting this miracle on my way!_

Instead, the only word that escapes his mouth is: “Why?”

Timmy raises his head and looks at him, frowning:

“What do you mean, _why?_ Because you're amazing, Armie: you are the most patient, kind, gentle, forgiving person I've ever met. And you're so strong, you make me feel like I can turn the whole world upside down when I'm with you” Timmy says, and a tear escapes from the corner of his eye.

\---

A few days before Armie's graduation (and him leaving for Harvard), Timmy is in one of the changing rooms at the Academy, putting back on his clothes after showering. He is alone, all the other boys are already gone, heading for other classes or the library, or the cafeteria. He is about to lace his shoes when he feels someone else's presence behind him and shivers, turning around and finding himself facing Clarence, the asshole who keeps tormenting him. He is smirking, looking at Timmy from head to toe.

“So... you and the monster” he says, cruelly.

Timmy tries to ignore him, going back to his laces, but Clarence is tough.

“How can you touch him? Eww, he's so fat!” he grimaces “I bet he sweats like a pig, and smells like a dead moose most of the time” he hisses, sounding like the snake he is.

Tim pretends to look for something in his locker, but feels Clarence's body coming closer and closer to him, and when he feels the boy's breath on his own neck, he starts feeling uncomfortable. Until Clarence whispers in his ear:

“I bet his rolls of meat bounce like pudding when he fucks you”

And now Timmy is scared. He is paralyzed by fear. He shouldn't be, but he is. He turns around, is about to say something, trying to move the other boy and going outside, but Clarence pushes him against the locker and keeps him still with his arm along Timmy's chest. Clarence is thin, but strong. He gets so close to Tim's face that he can see any single hair in his eyebrows.

“Well, that makes sense” he huffs “A monster like him is the only chance you have to be with someone, because you two are both freaks” Clarence laughs, but it doesn't reach his eyes, which are cold and empty. “No one normal would ever love you, because you're unworthy, and ugly, and meaningless, Timmy” he raises his voice as his unmotivated rage grows. “I would never look at you twice, that's for sure!”

Timmy looks him in the eyes, trying to keep the fear at bay, and says:

“I don't want you to look at me, Clarence. I never asked for you to look at me”

Clarence pushes further against him, and Timmy is sure he's going to be punched right in the face. But then, something happens. Something he would have never seen coming. Clarence _kisses him._ He kisses Timmy with a deep, dreadful desperation that makes the smaller boy panic: he tries to defend himself, pushes back, and eventually puts some space between their bodies. They look at each other, both panting, none of them talking, until Timmy simply takes his backpack and runs away.

 _Nobody will never know about this,_ he promises himself, while running through the Academy's halls and then outside, breathing in the fresh air, fighting the tears, _nobody will never know, especially Armie. He doesn't deserve this shit,_ Timmy thinks.

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter EVER! We're almost there... happy ending, of course!


	4. Six months later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie's shocks Timmy with a surprise. Their first time. Armie rescues Timmy. More fluff.

Chapter four: six months later

_When you were here before  
Couldn't look you in the eye  
You're just like an angel  
Your skin makes me cry  
You float like a feather  
In a beautiful world  
I wish I was special  
You're so fuckin' special_

_But I'm a creep  
I'm a weirdo  
What the hell am I doin' here?  
I don't belong here_

(“Creep”, The Radiohead)

On the bus coming back from his first semester at Harvard, Armie smiles, looking forward to see his boyfriend again, thinking about Timmy's reaction when he will see Armie's surprise. Will he be happy? Shocked? Maybe he will laugh. Surely he will fly in his embrace, wrap his elegant arms around Armie's neck, kiss him, like he did all the time before Armie went away to study at university. Six months are gone, but the love Armie feels for Timmy has not faded: quite the opposite, actually. He can't wait to see him again, listen to his voice in person, instead that through the phone.

\---

_Six months before_

The night before Armie leaves for Harvard, he and Timmy spend hours cuddled in his bed, with almost all of Armie's room dismantled and stocked into boxes, ready to go with him to Boston, in his new students' shared apartment.

The lights are off and they lay under the blankets, only the white shadow of the moon coming from the window enlightening their shapes. When they are exhausted and sated of kissing, they just stare at each other, the tips of their noses glued, legs entangled through the jeans. Armie delicately passes his fingertip over Timmy's forehead, his nose, his lips, his chin.

“What are you doing?” Timmy whispers, leaning to the gentle touch.

“I'm memorizing every single detail of your face, so I will bring them with me in my head, and when we will be apart, I will close my eyes and see you clearly, and you will be with me again” Armie explains, kissing Timmy's cheek.

Timmy feels like he wants to cry, to beg Armie not to go, not to leave him, but which kind of selfish asshole would he be? This is Harvard, this was Armie's dream since he was a child. He would never take it away from him, even if it means not seeing him for six months. _It's not so much time,_ he tries to convince himself, _he will come back visit during the spring break, and nothing will be changed._

“I love you to the edge of the universe and back” Timmy says.

“So little?” Armie jokes, pouting dramatically, faking sadness, and then laughs. They kiss again.

\---

During the whole semester, they talk to the phone every two days. There is a public phone on the ground floor of Armie's condo, and he makes sure he always has a lot of coins, because Timmy talks a lot, but Armie himself has a lot to say too, now that he is in this new adventure. He tells Timmy that university is amazing, that classes are fascinating and interesting, that the apartment is big and bright, that his roommates are kind and polite, that other students are nice and helpful, that nobody calls him _freak_ or _monster,_ that anyone is just there to study, there is no such a thing like bullying or competition or jealousy. He tells Timmy how happy he is. Yes, he is happy there.

Timmy listens to Armie's enthusiastic voice, and his heart aches. _He will be fed up with me soon_ , his brain keeps mulling over, _he will find someone better than me, and he will dump me. I'm a just a pathetic, ignorant brat_. He spends almost all nights crying in bed, soaking the pillows, and in the morning he looks like a ghost. Ballet classes are a nightmare, especially after his little _incident_ in the changing rooms with Clarence: Timmy didn't say anything to anyone except his sister, Pauline, who lives in Paris. She told him to go talk to Miss Thornton, that what happened is not his fault, but Timmy is too scared that if the episode gets public, his career as dancer would be at risk: nobody wants to hire a loose cannon. Better to try to forget and go on with his life, as horrible as it is in that very moment. With Armie building a new life for himself, without Timmy in it.

Timmy receives a lot of presents from Armie by post: Harvard's t-shirts and hoodies, pens, books, even a new backpack with the university logo. Little things that make his life a bit less miserable. Armie tells Timmy that he discovered that students can have some discounts in some shops, movies, theatres and gyms. One of his roommates, a boy from Nevada, has given Armie his monthly subscription for the pool, because he has no time to go, and Armie has found that swimming is very relaxing and helpful for his anxiety issue.

“I go at about six in the morning, when the place is empty, so nobody sees me in a swimsuit” Armie jokes, giggling.

“Oh, stop it!” Timmy scolds him to the other side of the phone “You are perfect. I bet half of the students are already pining over you” he says, a slight sadness in his voice.

“I'm already taken for good” Armie replies “by the most incredible, perfect, amazing boy in the entire galaxy”. That makes Timmy smile, and Armie is sure he can _hear_ the smile from where he is.

\---

_Six months later_

Timmy is waiting for Armie at the bus station in New York city. Armie will be there about four pm, and they couldn't help but laugh when Armie said that to Timmy over the phone, because it seems that four pm is their own, personal moment of the day, almost created only for them. Armie looks out of the bus window, seeing the familiar skyline of New York getting closer and closer. His heart beats like a furious drum into his chest, and his hands literally tingle with desire to touch Timmy, finally, after six long months. He is scared that Timmy could have changed, could have forgotten him, found someone else, someone _better,_ maybe another dancer, and will dump him the very moment he will get out of the bus. He breathes deeply, trying to keep the panic at bay.

The bus stops in front of the station, and Armie runs to the door, gets out, looks around frantically, searching for a mop of dark curls. His eyes scan through the people in the forecourt until he sees him: his hair is shorter, he looks slightly taller, pale in his black jumper. Armie smiles to the fact that Timmy is always cold, even if it's late spring. He walks fast until he is just behind him.

“Timmy” he calls, and his boyfriend turns around, showing his best smile.

Smile that fades away the moment he takes a full look to Armie.

\---

Armie is in front of him, but Timmy can't see him. The man who is standing in front of him, wearing a white shirt and a blue jacket, is not _his_ Armie. He looks like him, but he can't be him. Timmy's eyes widen and his mouth opens, but no sound escapes.

This man, this stranger standing in front of Timmy is different from the boy he used to know: this man is _thin,_ well, not thin like the other boys at the Academy, but definitely thinner than before. He looks taller, even, his hair short and tidy, his neck long, his lips full and soft. This man, this man that looks like Armie, irradiates self-confidence all around. He makes women and men turn around in the street. He could be a model or a movie star. This man is not Timmy's boyfriend. He is not _his_ Armie.

Timmy's lips tremble while he tries to say something, but Armie precedes him:

“Ehi, it's nice to see you” he walks a step forward and shyly tries for a hug. Even his voice is different, deeper. Timmy bursts in laughter.

“Who are you, man? What have you done with my boyfriend?” he asks as a joke, but inside he is a mess of panic and confusion. He didn't expect this. Why Armie didn't tell him he was losing weight? Timmy would have been happy, would have encouraged him, supported him...

Armie feels something is wrong. He puts his hands on Tim's shoulders and searches for his eyes.

“Ehi? It's just me. It's me, I'm... I'm sorry if this is not a welcome surprise, I thought... I thought you would be...” he rumbles, unsure about what to say. Timmy's eyes meet his ones, and he inhales a long, deep breath.

“Yeah, no, I'm sorry, I'm just... it's a big surprise, I didn't expect this at all. I think I need a moment to assess” Tim tries to reassure him. He takes his hand in his own and they start walking towards Armie's house, slowly and in silence, holding hands like they always used to do. When they reach it, Timmy stops in front of the door. Armie stops next to him.

“Go and say hello to your mama” Timmy says, smiling at him “She must have missed you so much. Stay with her tonight. I shall see you tomorrow. We have all the time in the world” he cups Armie's cheek with his hand (and he can feel his jaw now, and it's strange, uncommon, new) and then goes away, heading for his own house. Armie watches him stepping away, unable to move a muscle, to open his mouth and stop him. He is completely frozen to the core.

\---

Armie stays with his mother, has dinner with her, tells her everything about university. She is amazed by Armie's change, not only the physical one but also the personal one: Armie looks more confident, less anxious, happier. She tells him how proud of him she is.

But Armie can't stop thinking about Timmy: about the disappointment he saw in his eyes the day before; about how cold and distant he had been while they were walking to Armie's home. He goes to bed about midnight, but can't stop tossing and turning all night until, at eight in the morning, he can't take it anymore: he needs to see Timmy, talk to him, _touch him._ He feels like if he doesn't touch Tim right away he could burst in flame. Quickly he showers, puts on some clothes (all his clothes are new now, because the old ones were too large), leaves his home and walks like a fury towards Timmy's parents house.

Timmy's mom beams when she sees Armie.

“Oh my God, look at you!!” she literally yells “You're gorgeous! Timmy said you were back for spring break, and we hoped you could join us for dinner a couple of times before you go back to Boston” she invites him, tenderly patting his back and softly pushing him toward the stairs. “He is in his room” she winks at Armie before disappearing in the living room.

Armie climbs the stairs two by two and when he reaches Timmy's room door, he is breathless, but not because of the physical effort. He knocks and waits.

Timmy opens the door and smiles at him:

“Ehi” he huffs, sweetly, still half asleep “I was hoping you were passing by”. He moves and lets Armie get into the room, closes the door behind his back, leans on it for leverage.

Armie takes a glance out of the window, sighs, then starts to speak:

“I should have told you about... uhm, you know. It's just... I wanted this to be a surprise. I wanted you to be proud of me” he confesses, heart on his sleeve. He searches for all his courage and turns around, expecting to find Timmy's silence and disappointment again.

But the moment he turns around, he has to catch Timmy because the smaller boy literally throws himself into Armie's arms, starting kissing him like if he was possessed by a demon. A pretty horny demon, actually.

Timmy pushes Armie towards the bed, and they collapse on the mattress together, Timmy on top of Armie, never stop kissing his cheeks, neck, chin, landing finally on his lips, almost eating him alive. Armie smiles, then laughs, feeling his heart so full of love and happiness and relief, he thinks it could explode any minute now. The click of a door closing comes from downstairs. Timmy interrupts the contact only to announce:

“My mom just went to work. We are alone, and I want to have sex. _Now_ ”, then he immediately starts kissing Armie again, fumbling with his belt and zip.

Armie panics immediately.

“Woooh, ehi ehi calm down!” he says and tries to stop Timmy's restless hands.

The boy seems confused, then angry.

“Did you do it with someone else?” he asks, and it sounds like an accusation. Armie takes his hands in his own, tangling their fingers tight.

“What? No. No, baby, of course not. How could I have? I spent every minute thinking about you” he mewls, and his eyes are big and warm with all the love he can feel.

“Really?” Tim asks, shy.

“Of course. My roommates always made fun of me because I was perpetually in line for the phone, missing all the parties and the fun, just to talk to my boyfriend” Armie confesses, smiling, blushing. Timmy doesn't reply, but puts his hands on Armie's chest, as he used to do so often, but instead of softness he feels strong, steady muscles under the fabric of the shirt.

“You're so different” he whispers, not daring to look Armie in the eye, “I'm just so scared”

“Scared? Why?”

“Because it's like... it's like I don't know you anymore. It's like you are a different person now. Like if you're someone else” Timmy explains, his voice just a murmur.

Armie's gaze hardens, his jaw clenches.

“I wanted to be someone else my entire life” he says, dry and sure.

“But I loved you exactly as you were!” Timmy whines, not fully understanding what Armie means.

“Yeah, I know, but I didn't love _myself_ ” Armie explains, taking the boy's face into his hands and looking at him straight into his hazel eyes. “I don't expect you to understand, but even if I am different now, it's always me. It's still the boy you met last year. I still listen to the same music, and read the same books... and I still love you, still want you, and this will never change, I promise” he kisses him, softly, slowly and deeply, trying to express with his lips what words are not able to express.

What starts like a sweet kissing soon becomes a frenzied, hot, messy wrestling of tongues and lips. They are both longing for more now, even if neither of them has ever experienced sex (or even foreplays). Armie starts leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses all along Timmy's pale neck, and the boy shivers and moans softly, still on top of him.

“I guess our rules don't apply anymore” he says, smiling, and Timmy shakes his head, cheeks getting more and more red any second. He gathers all his courage and starts unbuttoning Armie's shirt, and when he takes it off, he stares at his chest and abdomen, flat and well shaped and strong, caressing all over his skin with mildly shaky hands.

“Oh my God, Armie, you are gorgeous” he says, in a tone of total surprise and disbelief. Armie chuckles and then kisses him again.

“You are beautiful. Perfect” he says in between kisses and then starts taking off Timmy's pajamas' shirt. They kiss and touch each other's skin, wherever their hands and lips can reach. Armie cups Timmy's little, rounded bottom and their crotches rub together, leaving both of them breathless for a moment.

“I think we should stick with something we both know, for the moment” Timmy says, opening Armie's jeans zip. The taller boy nods, and starts lowering his boyfriend's sweatpants. They are both hard and eager. Shyly, Timmy takes Armie's cock in his hand and starts stroking, slow and delicate, not wanting to hurt him. Armie feels an electric shock rise from his spine and going straight to his brain, sending him in a blissful confusion. He leans his head on Timmy's shoulder and just enjoys the sensation.

“I wanted to do this since the first time we talked” Timmy whispers, smirking, going faster. Then, when Armie is moaning helplessly, he suddenly stops. Armie looks at him, panting, frowning.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, but Timmy is smiling.

“Can I try something?” the smaller boy asks, blushing, “I'll be careful, and you will stop me if you don't like it, okay?” he says and Armie can't do anything but agree. He is physically unable to deny Timmy anything. He has always been; he will always be.

Then Timmy is crawling down along Armie's body, stopping between his legs. He keeps his hand wrapped around the base of Armie's cock and starts placing little wet kisses all over his hard shaft, and before Armie's brain can even process what's happening, Timmy is swallowing him whole, moving his head fast and merciless and with a steady rhythm. Armie looks at him in awe, then let himself fall backwards on the pillow and starts moaning again, louder, unapologetically, until he comes, embarrassingly quick.

Timmy cleans his mouth and chin with his hand and gives Armie a peck on the lips, unsure if the boy wants still to kiss him after what he has done. Armie opens his eyes, trying to catch his breath, then takes Timmy's face in his hands and glues their foreheads together.

“I never felt anything like this before. You make me feel...” Armie laughs, bites his lip, “You drive me crazy, and I love you”. They kiss, tangled in a tight embrace; then Armie flop them over, and takes Timmy's still rigid cock in his hand.

“It's my turn. I want to make you feel good, too” he murmurs, mouthing at his neck and shoulder while stroking, quick but delicate. Timmy's breath speeds even more when Armie's lips find a nipple, suck on it gently; then his warm tongue laps on it, one, two, three times before his teeth graze its pink surface, making Timmy moan. He sounds like a purring kitten, and Armie loves that sound with himself entirely: he wants to hear that sound every day, at least three times per day, for the rest of his life.

When Timmy comes, he hides his face in Armie's neck, happy and sated. They stay like this for at least another hour, without moving or speaking, until Timmy has to go to class.

\---

In the grocery shop, Armie buys some things for his mother, carefully following the list she gave him, but doesn't feel the urge to buy (and eat) junk food and sweets, like he usually did before. He feels good, head in the clouds, smiling and saying hello to random people in the shop aisles. He feels _happy_ , for real.

He doesn't ever realize it's past four pm, and he knows that Timmy expects to find him in front of the Academy's entrance when he finishes classes. He runs out of the shop and heads for the Julliard. When he gets there, something is happening: a small crowd is gathered in front of the main door, and someone is yelling: a male, high pitched, unpleasant voice.

“How did you get the _pas-de-deux_? You aren't even able to walk straight!” the voice shrieks, clearly loaded with rage. “Which cock did you suck to get there?”

The crowd laughs. Armie gets closer, and since he is taller than anyone else, he can clearly see what's going on: Clarence is yelling at Timmy, who instead remains in silence, face pale, eyes wet with tears. Armie feels the fury raise in his brain and immediately steps forward through the crowd, putting himself between the two boys, shielding Timmy with his body.

“What did you just say to him?” he hisses, towering over Clarence, who looks at him confused.

“Who the hell are you now?” he spits, but when he sees Timmy's hand landing on the taller boy's arm to calm him down, he has an epiphany: “Monster!” he bursts out, in disbelief. He didn't recognize him at first. He starts blabbering about how Timmy _stole_ his dance number for the show they are planning, but Armie literally doesn't give a single shit: he takes Timmy's hand and drags him gently away from the crowd, but Clarence is not done.

“You should teach your boyfriend how to kiss, Monster, because I tried him and he's not good at all” he says, loud and cruel, with the sole purpose of hurting Timmy.

Slowly, silently, Armie turns around, approaches Clarence, grabs the collar of his shirt and lifts him up like a pathetic ragdoll.

“You touch him, or talk to him again, or even only look at him once more, and I swear there will be no hole in the ground deep enough for you to hide in” Armie whispers, his voice cold, his eyes mad with rage, their faces just a few inches apart. He lets Clarence go and goes back to Timmy, who takes his hand in silence, the two of them walking through the group of people and away towards the other side of the road.

\---

And of course, now Timmy has to tell Armie about the _incident_ in the changing room six months before, and of course Armie is mad at him for not telling him immediately.

“I didn't want to burden you with that, too. You were going through enough shit on your own back then, and you were stressed about Harvard and moving out and everything” Timmy justifies himself, caressing Armie's cheeks to sooth him, somehow.

They are lying on Timmy's bed (his parents are downstairs, so they can't engage in their new favorite activity right now), cuddled tight, cozy under the blankets. Armie kisses Timmy's temple, hand in the boy's curls.

“You will never burden me, you dummy” he says, smiling wide, “And anyway, it's not like the Julliard is the only art academy in the universe... there are some nice ones in Boston, too” he suggests, pretending indifference. “We can rent a small apartment, until I graduate. Boston it's a nice city. Not fancy and noisy as New York, but maybe you'll like it, too”

Timmy's head springs up and he looks at Armie like he has just grown up a second head, then he smiles, frowns and smiles again. He feels his heart beating faster and faster in his chest, and just can't believe what Armie has just said: moving to Boston, living together, being a real couple, sleeping and waking up together every day for the rest of their life (or at least as long as possible)? Of course he wanted to! That was the only thing he had ever truly desired in his whole life so far. Of course he would say yes; he would always say yes to the love of his life.

“Armie...” Timmy huffs, eyes wide, smile shining, but never finishes his sentence because he glues his lips on Armie's ones, kissing him, taking his breath away, leaving his body say what the words can't say.

_And in that moment, Armie feels blessed, wondering how he got so lucky to have such a miracle storming in his life one day and never leaving him since then. He feels blessed because Timmy is there, with him, in his arms._

_His Timmy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok beautiful people, this is the last chapter! I will take a little break before posting something else, first because work is killing me and I need to sleep, and second because I have like 300 tv series to catch up with! But I will come back soon, I promise! There are other 9 stories ready to be written and posted (yes, I know they should be 10 in total, but apparently I can't even stick with my own plans so ops! they are 11 instead), we will have our boys living other adventures in different times and universes! But always with an happy ending, I promise :) I luv ya!


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